


A Smile That Could Melt The Snow

by poisonous_panda



Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: Confusion, Episode Prompto, Gen, Guilt, Hallucinations, Insecurity, Mental Breakdown, Mental Illness, Snow, snow angel, snow ball fight, train
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-21
Updated: 2017-05-21
Packaged: 2018-11-03 08:20:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,172
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10963347
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/poisonous_panda/pseuds/poisonous_panda
Summary: A friend of mine reblogged some beautiful artwork on Tumblr of Prompto and an MT making a snow angel by a user called blue--leaf. Obviously I had to put a heartbreaking spin on it





	A Smile That Could Melt The Snow

Prompto loved Noctis. He considered him his platonic soulmate. He would do everything to make his King smile.

Even act like a complete goof, just like they were doing now out here in the snow.

Prompto had been scared to talk to Noctis again after the King had pushed him off the top of the train. Terrified that maybe Noctis knew of his Niflheim roots and saw him as an enemy despite all their years of friendship.

Explaining himself and begging his brothers-in-arms to give him another chance was what had kept him going. He wanted to prove - yet again - that he was good enough, strong enough, to stand by their side in the final battle.

He may not be good with people like Gladio is, he may not be as smart as Ignis and he certainly isn’t royalty like Noctis, but he wasn’t a waste of space like he’d always believed. Noctis had said so himself. After the affectionate chat with Noct on top of that rooftop in Old Lestallum, Prompto had repeated the conversation mentally almost daily. Always convincing himself he was good enough with Noctis’ own words.

The poor blonde had been devastated with Noct’s sudden change in character on the train. At first he thought his King was just lashing out because of all the grief he had suffered - Noct never was very good at voicing his emotions; even to Prompto. But Noctis continued to persue him through the carriages, then he eventually caught up with Prompto and shoved his childhood friend against the wall, shrieking like a madman about everything being all ‘his’ fault. Prompto’s heart had shattered. Noct was beyond help at that point and just wouldn’t listen to reason.

It was a blessing in disguise when the train jolted and Noctis smacked his head on the floor, leaving him temporarily unconscious. As much as Prompto wanted to check on his friend, every instinct told him to run.

So run he did.

Right into Ardyn.

After a few velvety words thrown his way about how it was a ‘pity’ the King now saw his friend as nothing but another MT, Prompto had tried to attack the older man. The Chancellor was quick on his feet for such a tall guy, so it was a relief when Prompto finally had him cornered on the train roof.

But then Noctis had appeared, raging his name and slashing at him with his sword. Luckily it only left a small graze across the bridge of Prompto’s nose because the gunslinger had stepped back - but in doing so had lost his balance and plummeted off the train.

And landed on his back, all of the air in his lungs painfully whoosing out of him.

But he was alive.

“Yeouchh! If I was still fat then that wouldn’t have hurt so much! Thanks Luna!”

The young man chuckled to himself, remembering how hard he had lost his childhood weight so he had enough confidence to befriend the then-young prince at Luna’s behest. Humour always had been his coping mechanism.

Once the pain racking his slender body had subsided, Prompto scrambled to his feet. It was too late to hope to catch the train, but at least he knew of it’s destination. The only thing he wasn’t looking forward to was the weather. He’d fallen off whilst there were still sand dunes on the horizon, but as he followed the train tracks the wind turned bitter and the temperature dropped.

It was only by sheer luck that he had stumbled upon a load of discarded suitcases near the train tracks. They must have fallen off the train when the MTs were bombing it, he’d concluded to himself. Even more luckily - to the point it was suspicious - he had found some warm winter clothes that fit him and - if he allowed himself such self-indulgent thoughts - suited him rather well.

Satisfied he wouldn’t die of frostbite, the young gunslinger had set off on his way, trying not to think of how much ground he needed to make up on foot, nor how many hours of daylight were left.

He was unfortunate enough to come across more MTs on his journey. Maybe they were following the train like him? Or maybe they were just stranded because of the the wrecked drop ships littering the landscape. Either way, he expertly dispatched of them.

Although he is the first to admit he is quite the scaredy cat, his aim with a firearm was second to none. Cor had praised Prompto often during his training for the Crownsguard, the older man frequently saying it would never be lack of skill that got Prompto killed; it’d either be his running mouth or if he allowed himself to be crippled by his own self-doubts.

Prompto idolised Cor. He was strong, quick, graceful and just an outright badass. He was also tender and understanding when the situation called for it - he was like the father Prompto never had; adopted or biological. So he would not let him down. Or his friends.

That is how Prompto kept his spirits up throughout the arduous frozen journey. But as the fighting wore on, and the endless snowy miles stretched out before him, Prompto’s resolve had started to falter.

What if he got to Tenebrae and Noctis still tried to kill him? He could outrun Noctis but if Gladio got hold of him…. The thought gave him the chills.

He also hated killing MTs. Not because he thought they were innocent, but because every time he felled one, his mind whispered about his own origins. How it could have easily been him behind the armour. Another faceless empty vessel.

Hunger and fatigue were getting to him; more so than his pride would let him admit. He couldn’t go on much longer. And if he had to hear more of those daemonic screams from the dying MTs as their souls flittered away to Astrals knows where, he didn’t know if he could take it.

Sometimes if they had faced a lot of them during the day, Prompto waited until everyone was asleep at the motel or in the caravan to mourn into his pillow. He didn’t remember much of his origins, but the prison cells he and the other children were kept in frequently plagued his nightmares. What if it had been one of those kids he had killed that day?

Now here he was, alone, cold, hungry and rather scared, shooting his bretheren. Whether he liked it or not, Niflheim is where he came from and these things were his family, if only by design. He had come to accept that.

At first he had been frightened, guilt clouding his judgement every time he raised his gun to one of the machines. But once that had given way, a small sadistic streak in him had shamefully reared it’s head and he ENJOYED killing them. That’s when his training finally started to fall into place and he became the sharpshooter he is today. Then once the anger, pain and bitterness had subsided - Noct unwittingly helping him with that by always showing his complete acceptance of Prompto - Prompto was able to see the differences between himself and them. That reeled his mind back in. It didn’t help his social awkwardness unfortunately though.

He had more of a fragile mind than he liked to admit. He was riddled with self-doubts, had been so easily swayed into shedding all that excess weight in his childhood so that now he was left with stretch marks and saggy skin, which in turn had manifested into a slight fear of even gaining weight. He usually tortured himself with previous social interactions as well - what did he do wrong? What were they thinking of him? Were they laughing behind his back?

Maybe that’s why he was so desperate for a girlfriend. That kind of world-ending love you see in the movies. He wanted that unconditional love and acceptance with someone.

All of that hidden behind a smile that could melt this snow.

Well….. if only.

After a particularly tense skirmish with a few armed MT Assassins, Prompto couldn’t hold back his tears any longer. Now he just let them fall. Those kids he had known at such a young age - they were no longer who he remembered, if they were these things at all. And who are they going to tell anyway? So he might as well let the emotions out.

Finally, after strategically weaving through a snow-crusted patch of overgrowth, he had cornered the last MT. An earlier bullet had damaged one of its knees so it clunked awkwardly around, looking for its target - Prompto - before crashing to the ground when it tried to walk up the slight incline of a hill, its damaged leg unable to support it any longer.

Prompto was tired. So very tired at this point. So although the MT was an easy target, he had to close the remaining distance between them in a slow, panting walk.

Once he was standing over the per- MT, MT, MT, MT Prompto corrected his thinking.

Once he was standing over the MT he made sure to look into its eyes. He always did it when fighting them - looking for some semblence of free will behind those blood red eyes. Never once did he find anything. Ever.

Shivering, Prompto rose his aching arm, vision slightly blurry with tears. Uttering a quick apology, he pulled the trigger then turned away.

How many more? He couldn’t take it. He needed Noct.

And, thankfully, he came.

“Hey buddy, why the tears?” The King asked from behind Prompto, his tone full of playful mockery.

“Hmm?” Prompto’s startled reply came, and he turned on the spot.

There, lying on the ground, was Noctis.

Hands clasped over his tummy with a silly grin on his face. How did he get there? There was a smoking bullet hole next to the King’s head where Prompto had missed the shot. What…?

“C’mon, let’s not waste the snow!” The King laughs as he gets to his feet. “Specs’ll be here soon with Gladio. They’re just dropping the other passengers off. Solid job with the MTs over there!”

Noctis gives his friend a thumbs up, then stoops down to pick up a handful of snow. Just as he’s about to throw it at Prompto, the blonde speaks.

“W-What? Don’t you hate me? Why did you stop me shooting Ardyn?”

Noctis tsked at his friend.

“It was the only way I could get you away from him on that roof. You wasn’t supposed to go over the edge you klutz!” Cue Noct’s adorable childish giggle which always set Prompto off too.

Relief washed over the gunslinger as he and his friend continued to toss snowballs at each other. Noct didn’t hate him! And neither did the big guy or Iggy!

Everything was going to be alright.

Noctis and Prompto’s laughter rang out across the frozen land, warming the very air.

After a bit of playful shoving, the two young men fell backwards in the snow and held each other’s hands as they proceeded to make snow angels.

-

From a distance, Ardyn was watching.

He had watched the blonde on his journey, and had seen him fend for himself. He hadn’t expected him to survive, if he was completely honest, but the young man had done him proud.

Ardyn had only helped by leaving some winter clothes out for him. Prompto did seem to enjoy having his arms bare but that would not suffice in these frozen conditions. He needed some sort of bait to bring Noctis to his Crystal. And what better bait than the escaped MT? He could bring it home where it belongs as well as luring the King to Gralea.

But as he watched, things took a darker turn.

He saw the tears falling from Prompto’s face.

He had seen Prompto turn away, only for his attention to snap right back to where he shot his gun.

Then he saw the smile making Prompto’s face glow.

He had heard Prompto talk to Noctis.

He had even watched Prompto enjoying the games he and Noctis were playing.

But it wasn’t Noctis at all.

Lying there, hand in hand with Prompto - arm thrashing in time with the happy blonde - was the dead MT Prompto had shot through the skull.

“My my,” Ardyn chuckles to himself, “It seems the little gunman’s mind has snapped. A temporary reprieve from killing his own kind I suppose. This will be easier than I thought.”

Shapeshifting into the ‘mother hen’ of the group, Ardyn stiffly walks over to where Prompto and ‘Noctis’ were playing, already formulating the words in his head that he imagined Ignis would use to scold the pair for wasting time.

“I should get you to Gralea before you get yourself hurt my boy, the King won’t be best pleased if I return his goods to him damaged.” Ardyn mutters to himself as he closes the gap between himself and the disturbed young blonde.


End file.
